


tapping pulse

by 23notecanon (reincarnivore)



Series: you broke time [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, like probably depression, not comprehending what any kind of love is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reincarnivore/pseuds/23notecanon
Summary: what does it feel like to sleep alone and notice being alonewhat is it supposed to feel like
Relationships: Ansem Seeker of Darkness | Xehanort's Heartless/Xemnas
Series: you broke time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529372
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	tapping pulse

If there’s one thing Xemnas isn’t learning to appreciate, it’s the slow inkling of emotion that drips into his existence now that he’ clinging to it in this replica form rather than his indomitable will. There’s no time for him to set aside to attempt at ‘replenishing’ his will to sturdy himself in reality beyond physicality, so physical he stays- but he _hates_ it. At least, he _thinks_ this is ‘hate’- it’s a pit in his stomach, a crawling, sinking feeling. A fuzz in his skull, that when he opens his eyes to the pitch black of his room, he swears he sees shapes in the darkness that pulse, ebb and flow over his vision, unfocused, uncontrolled, sinking inside of his head. He tries to blink out the hollow visions, but it refuses to subside, so Xemnas only assumes it means something, even if it doesn’t. He’s never noticed these things before; they did not matter. Now, there’s air in his lungs that pushes up his chest with each shallow breath, as he lays flat on a cold, stiff mattress. Now, there’s thoughts in his head that means nothing, telling meaningless stories, there’s these phantoms in his blinking, dark blind vision. 

Despite the shadows keeping him company, Xemnas still feels that pathetic emotion he clings to, lonely

It’s not necessarily hard, the work they’re doing now, for Xehanort. If anything, now that he isn’t the brains of the operation, Xemnas has been left very... un-worked. Un-worked leads to these long, dark, quiet nights, these rampant thoughts, and he breaks the silence with a long, wheezing draw of breath into his lungs, jostling his body from beneath him as it equally sighs long drawn and pathetically through his nose, forcing his eyes lidded once again. Just, sleep, brain. Sleep is nice. But sleep won’t come with _thoughts._

As much as he isn’t expecting anyone to interrupt his moping, Xemnas doesn’t turn to look up when he feels the pressure change from a corridor, or soft boot-steps clicking into his space. He doesn’t even move when they stand right next to his bed, looming there in the pitch black silence beyond their two quiet breaths. He does, however, draw a line when the foot of the mattress shifts with weight, and peers over his shoulder- but it’s too dark. He makes out a shape, maybe, of a tall figure, in a jacket. The breathing sound familiar, and moreso as he creaks, but it’s muffled by an unzipping jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and laying it down across Xemnas’ bare legs. No reason for him to be clothed in the ‘safety’ of his own room, Xemnas is naked and uncovered, his blanket crammed beneath his body rather than above it. Despite all his new, unfun emotions, Xemnas still isn’t responsive to ‘embarrassment’ or being ‘shy’, and while he’s not terribly interested in a stranger accosting him in the night, there’s enough familiarity he can simply _feel_ between him and this unknown figure, Xemnas relaxes back down into his pillow with a sigh. Fine, join me then stranger, he doubts it will alleviate his pale feelings.

Join him he does, though he remains in his pants, slinking close to Xemnas’ back until he’s surely got a faceful of fluffy, silver hair, and as the stranger finds himself skin pressed to skin, Xemnas gets a good whiff of him- but it smells like nothing. It smells like, _himself,_ he thinks, a mote thicker than him, a sharper inkling of sweat- which is good, because it immediately narrows down the suspects to one, and he rumbles barely audible into his pillow, “Ansem.” Ansem, he still calls him, because that is his name now, shared with _their_ old master. It’s either Ansem shared or Xehanort shared, and since they’re in the unconditional servitude of two Xehanort’s now, Xemnas opts more for Ansem rather than have _three Xehanort._.. Equally, however, the name Ansem puts him more aligned with Xemnas’ name, and he clings to that idea rather than being Xehanort. He hates the idea of being Xehanort now. 

Muffled into his hair, Xemnas shivers when Ansem’s warm breath speaks across the back of his neck, “Xemnas.” An arm sneaks itself across his body, a palm resting between his shoulder blades. This isn’t the first time Ansem has made himself acquainted with Xemnas’ personal space, but never has he snuck into his bed at night. 

“And what do I owe the honor.”

“You’re moping,” in a slightly teasing tone- but just barely. He’s aware Xemnas’ mood is on edge, and Ansem isn’t interested in getting removed from his space so quickly.

Rasping, “I’m not meaning too.”

“I’m sure you don’t mean to do lots of things.”

“I used to only do things I meant to,” he barely mumbles in return.

A silence lingers after that, just the breath warming over his neck, shoulder, a sharp exhale trying to blow some errant strands out of his nose before a hand raises to gently coax the mass to the other side of his shoulders. It, mostly works. Ansem knows well that cuddling Xemnas from side or behind involves getting some hair up your nose, despite all best efforts. Honestly, with his bangs, getting hair in your nose from the front also occurs. “So, I am here.”

“You’re not at _my_ beck and call.”

“I sort of am,” he hums back, humoured, toying his digits in the untameable strands as long as he can manage not to accidentally tickle the back of Xemnas’ neck more than he already is by breathing on him.

“Go back to your own room, your own bed, then. I did not ask you to be here,” but he speaks weakly, unsure. Laying prone and unmoving to remove his other half from his presence.

“Maybe not with your words,” he’s pressed right up to Xemnas’ side now, the bare warmth of Ansem’s chest against the flat muscles of Xemnas’ shoulder blade. He shifts beneath the weight awkwardly until they find a more comfortable position with Xemnas slightly up on one side rather than completely on his face, and that provides the extra benefit of not being completely muted by his pillow. He tries anyways, shifting his face back towards the wrinkled fabric.

“If I’m asking your heart for input, your best solution is to let me fall asleep rather than torment me with your touch awake.”

“You were taking too long to sleep, so I’ll find you funner to torment instead,” even if neither of them really think this is torment. He bundles Xemnas’s hair into his fist, grasping enough of it when he tugs his head back out of his pillow, he’s at no risk of hurting him. Just, annoying him. Tormenting him. 

That spurns some distaste from him, but still not enough to unroot him. “That is your mistake to make, then.”

“You don’t seem like you care either way.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t _feel_ sure.”

“I would prefer you didn’t imply you know the berth of each mote of feeling I harbor in my chest.”

“No, I cannot say I know everything, but I know some things, and you do not _feel_ sure _._ ”

“Keep out of my mind, then.”

“Keep your mind out of me.”

“I’m sure in part of this sharing is your fault.”

“A bit,” he shrugs, laying his arm across Xemnas’ side again to bury his face into his neck before the unleashed hair can fully block him. His eyes squeeze shut to stop the strands from blinding him, and he finds a passage to breath by nuzzling deep into the pocket between Xemnas’ neck and shoulder. It’s hard not to shiver at each breath now, warm, somehow appealing. It tickles worse when Ansem speaks again, “You’re already more relaxed.”

Since he’s actively shivering from each breath on his shoulder, “I don’t agree with that.”

“I meant more than when I came in.”

Since he’s able to hide his face in his pillow again, Xemnas opts to re-muffle himself, “I am not fond of being lonely. I can stand anything else but this.”

The softest, barest sigh, “I know you aren’t.”

“So, if you’re _so smart,_ figure it out.”

“I am,” he rumbles into his skin, followed by a few softly exhaled laughs.

Xemnas tilts up his head, a confused hum in his throat.

“I _am_ figuring it out, right now. It’s working. You’re not lonely.”

He blinks into the still ever-present darkness, having forgotten about the blotting shadows in his vision. “I’m…” He doesn’t feel the rising of his chest- he feels Ansem’s breath on his neck. Ansem’s breath in his chest, when the flat muscles of his pecs press against his shoulder, pressing him into the mattress just barely. He settles back down into his bed with a hum, and he feels the cold parts of his body that remain uncovered from the blanket beneath him and the body pressed into his side. “...Cold.”

A pause to that as Ansem tries to understand. “Cold?”

“We’re laying atop my blanket.”

“We sure are. You were like that when I found you, and I wasn’t going to question it.”

“Why not. You question everything else,” Xemnas moves to push against Ansem’s weight, jostling him out of the way with a stifled ‘ack’ as he’s so suddenly moved. Blindly pawing at the blanket beneath him to crawl under it- but he’s snagged when it’s caught under Ansem’s ass still. “Get up.”

“Just pull really hard.”

“You’d like me to tug you off the bed.”

“It could be like a magic trick. If you pull hard enough, I will remain in place.”

Oh, oh Xemnas is so, so incredibly tempted. Not because he thinks in any way it will work. But because he’d like to launch Ansem off the bed.. But he doesn’t want to risk tearing his blanket. When he continues to remain fixed in place in the dark, Xemnas releases his blanket, but grabs for Ansem instead. Before he can comprehend to ‘hmn?’, Ansem is abruptly pulled forwards, up and over, until they’re traded places. The movement also shifts the blanket out from under the both of them, leaving it wrinkled up at the side and off the edge of his bed.

“That was dramatic,” Ansem can’t help but laugh, now pressed up against the wall and ‘looking’ towards him, though even his sharp, dark eyes have trouble seeing in the non-existent light of Xemnas’ room. Just the shadow of a figure, mostly the silver hair that catches the barest light as Xemnas shifts.

“But the problem is solved, so what does it matter,” and he lays back down, reaching awkwardly for his blanket and violent tossing it up and over him- and over Ansem, if he has guessed the trajectory well enough.

It mostly gets on him, and the rest he sneaks down beneath. Mirrored now, as they’ve replaced each other’s spaces in his bed, but Xemnas lays on his back now, and Ansem takes his place nestled gently into his shoulder. Breathing into the side of his neck- but it’s extra warm now, under the blanket. Pressing teeth to the skin of his shoulder, nibbling idly, which doesn’t help the shiver that overtakes his spine again. “Why do you plague me with consciousness.”

“You’re even more miserable when you’re asleep.”

“I don’t notice it as much, so it’s more beneficial for me.”

“I think I’ve been letting you sleep fine for the past few days.”

“Should I do you the favour of letting you sleep without my displeasure, hmn?”

“Well, if you stay comfortable while we lay here, and you sleep comfortably, then it won’t matter.” He stops his nibbling, tucking his face beneath Xemnas’ shoulder with a huff as his arms drapes across his chest. 

Ansem breaks his wandering thoughts when a hand wanders across Xemnas’ chest, a palm resting over that hollow place where his heart would be beating, if they were really people now. The heart for _blood_ \- if they had that, Xemnas isn’t sure. Replicas breath, but do they have a circulatory system? Xemnas speaks, “Do we have hearts?”

“I- uhh.. Yes?” Them having hearts was the root of this midnight cuddle.

“I meant, in there, where you’re feeling,” Xemnas’ hand wanders up to catch at Ansem’s digits, feeling over his own chest before laying it back down when Ansem doesn’t seem interested in moving it.

“I... don’t remember... If Vexen gave his replicas hearts. Not the old ones we are, at least. The new ones do- your little puppet has one, doesn’t she?”

“She does, but that was my specification.

“It was important to you that she had a pulse?”

“Not the first time, but this time… yes, it was important.”

“Need her to suffer with you, hmn?”

“... That seems like a likely answer.”

Ansem is tapping a digit across that space above his lacking heart, in time with a heartbeat he can’t feel. No, their old models that they inhabit, Ansem and Xemnas lack pulse. But, they do have hearts, the hearts they’re more familiar with. Xemnas cold, pale light, and Ansem’s impossibly old, broken and cracking beneath the strain he’s put it under. “I’d take your heart out if I could. I’m sure I could make it… work.”

“Is it not working? I feel many things in its pale light.”

“It is unbalanced and weak. Do you not feel your weakness?”

“I thought the weakness was a part of the package, emotions, weakness and all.”

“Suppose the only other people who you hang around are just as miserable in private as you are.”

Xigbar and Saix, so yes, and Xemnas nods to that. Taking a step back, however, “You’d take my heart out again, hmn?”

“Suppose I’ll learn better this time and not leave the body behind.” 

Xemnas sighs to that, softly, opening eyes to peer down in the darkness, but he sees nothing but blobs of black. His brain makes up the difference, though, and he swears he sees Ansem’s hand in the darkness, on his chest, gently patting out a heartbeat. His eyes lid to that, head resting back into his pillow with a sigh.

A silence reigns after that beyond that tapping pulse and their dual breaths, and Xemnas is tempted to remark how they seem to find to match each other in time, but he doesn’t want to ruin the quiet moment either. When his eyes remain shut, the shadows stay in place as he focuses on the pressure of an arm across his chest, Ansem’s head occasionally readjusting where he wants to settle himself when the first try at cuddling made it exceptionally hard to breath. It’s a shame he has no idea what to call what he feels now- but it isn’t a pit in his stomach, a sick feeling, a fuzz in his head, behind his eyes. It’s just, nothing, perhaps, which reminds he a bit of being a Nobody, but it’s a... _full_ nothing that he simply can’t relate to. Not now, at least. If this progresses, he’s sure he’ll find a word for it.


End file.
